It's Too Late
by lyds22
Summary: What hurts more: doing something you shouldn't of, or not doing anything when you should've? For Fabian, he can't seem to decide; ever since his best friend killed herself, his life has fallen apart. He wishes he could just go back in time and make everything right. But it's too late. Three-shot. Rated T for themes and slight language. Third genre: drama.
1. Chapter 1

***Edited June 8th, 2012.**

* * *

**Fabian's POV**

For most people, suicide is just a horrible tragedy that they hear on the news or read in books. They feel slight grief for whoever was so miserable that they decided to take away their own life, and a little pain for the people affected by that loss. But they don't know how much it truly hurts. Unless if you've experienced it.

Sometimes, the person is just a peer at school, someone you've never met. Sometimes it's an acquaintance, maybe you shared a few of the same classes or were assigned as partners for a project. And sometimes, it's a friend. Or your _best_ friend. That's by far the most unbearable pain of all.

* * *

"Nina Martin, Jerome Clarke, Patricia Williamson, Alfie Lewis, Mara Jaffray, Edison Sweet, Amber Millington, and Fabian Rutter to the principal's office immediately," Mr. Sweet's voice boomed through the loudspeaker, startling all of us. My heart sank as I realized my name had been called along with the rest of my housemates. Going to the principal's office was the last thing I wanted to do.

Miss Valentine promptly stopped lecturing. Her eyes adverted to all of us who were called down, and she gave a quick nod of her head, physically displaying her permission for us to leave. Her face is what struck me the hardest; her lips were pressed together in thin, firm frown. And her eyes were hard to see through, but the more carefully I looked, I could see the way they drooped dejectedly as we stood up to leave. She knew why we were called down. Everyone did.

The eight of us filed out of the doorway, in complete silence. The silence continued to linger over us like a storm cloud as we padded down the hallway, a distinct distance between all of us. This was the opportunity for us to finally talk, but I couldn't bring myself to speak. I could see in the way my housemates looked conflicted, like they too were awash in complex signals and impulses; debating whether or not it was the right time to say something. Clearly it wasn't.

Things weren't the same between us anymore, after the "incident" occurred. None of us had spoken in days, we had tried before. But the conversations were never genuine, each failed attempt was filled with feigned happiness, forced smiles, awkward silences. Everyone had become so distant and depressed. The incident that had changed our lives, the incident we were doing to be forced to discuss with the principal. The incident I couldn't think about without tears welling up in my eyes and made my heart ache so badly that it was unbearable. I tried not to dwell about it, but it was impossible. It was always on my mind.

Jerome reached the door to the office first, and knocked firmly, and stepped back. A few seconds went by before a faint call of "Enter" could be heard through the silence. Jerome turned the knob and held the door open for all of us. We stepped through the threshold and into the small office, the clicking of the closing door followed.

Mr. Sweet was sitting at his desk, his hands folded upon the dark wood. His stare on us was piercingly sharp, yet I couldn't bring myself to look away. We all gathered around his desk, uncomfortably cramped together.

"You all know why you were called down here, I assume," Mr. Sweet spoke, his voice firm and unwavering. Like he had been rehearsing his words over and over again, which I wouldn't have been surprised if he did.

We all nodded briefly, still not meeting eyes. That wasn't good enough for our principal, apparently, for he asked one of the most hardest questions to answer.

"Can any of you explain why?"

I kept my eyes locked on the floor, my heart beating like a fast, low drum in my chest. So loud I was fearing everyone could hear it. But no one was looking at me; their eyes were all focused off into space. Their eyes were dull and lifeless, like their bodies were on earth, but their soul and mind were elsewhere. Except for Patricia, who was staring coldly at Mr. Sweet, scowling.

"You really have the nerve to ask us that? You know exactly why you called us down here!" She growled, slamming her hand against Mr. Sweet's desk. The sound struck loudly through the room and I noticed the way everyone seemed to jump back into reality at the sharp noise. Surprisingly, he did nothing, and to add to my shock, he looked completely unfazed by Patricia's outburst.

"Yes, you're correct, Patricia." His voice was now calm, his face expressionless. Which just seemed to aggravate Patricia even more; her body had become rigid, her hands balled up into quivering fists. No one tried to comfort her, we all knew by now that it was best not to offer Patricia sympathy when she was in one of those moods. Not that I blamed her for acting the way she just did, she had every right to be upset. Some of us were just handling the incident differently than others. But I knew for certain that we all felt grief, pain and guilt.

Mr. Sweet took a deep breath, and leaned forward in his chair. "Since none of you can tell me why, perhaps I'll have to remind you. Your friend, housemate and classmate, Joy Mercer, committed suicide," he said solemnly. Everything seemed to stop once that word reached my ears, including my breath. Suicide, the most disgusting word I've ever heard, seen or read. A word that I now had so much hatred toward.

"This question might be even harder, but at least one of you needs to answer. Because I'm sure one of you has an answer. Can any of you explain why she might of done that?"

That question was even harder than the first. I couldn't believe he expected one of us to be able to answer that, out loud, with everyone watching them. We all continued to focus our eyes on anything but each other, too afraid to meet someone's eyes. Because no matter how hard we tried to deny it, we all knew. We all knew why she killed herself. The reason never left my mind, I couldn't forget it no matter how hard I tried to make myself. It scarred me like a wound; it _was_ a wound.

A few minutes passed, but still no response. I stood there, my feet practically frozen to the ground, paralyzed. Too afraid to speak the truth. And the truth was that I was a coward, afraid of doing what I knew was right. I knew Joy was dissapointed in me for not speaking out; I could feel it in my heart. And it burned, it ached. It was tearing me apart. I had to be the one to answer his question, for Joy. I had to do this for her, while I could still feel her presence with me. I could feel her everywhere I went, like she had never left. But she did. And I never noticed until now how badly I would miss her.

I took a deep, shaky breath. _I'm doing this for you, Joy. Not anyone but you._

"I got a letter," I said in a voice so hushed, so vulnerable, it could barely be heard. Everyone's head's turned in my direction, eyes set steadily on my shaking figure. Their eyes were all unreadable, but I knew they were all well aware of what I was talking about. We had all read the letter.

I reached inside of my trouser pocket on the left side, and pulled out a crisp, folded piece of paper, and held it out in front of me. My hands quivered slightly as Mr. Sweet reached out and gently took the letter from my grasp. I rested my hand back against my side, blinking back tears. I took the letter everywhere I went; it was the only real thing I had left of her. It was more valuable than pictures, or even memories. Because right now, all I could remember was the bad memories; the ones that had caused her to do what she did. The _people_ that had caused her to do what she did. I was one of them.

* * *

_Flashback~_

The door made a slight creaking noise as I opened it, stepped inside, and then made a clicking noise once I closed it behind me. I looked around the room, my eyes only focused on my side. I spent a lot more time in here than I used to after the unfortunate event that occurred a few days ago. The event that changed my colorful world to dull black and white, as dreary as cloudy afternoon. I wasn't myself anymore, I was much more reserved and distant. Then again, we all were. We couldn't speak to each other anymore. And that was quite an alarming thing.

Suddenly, I noticed something new on my made bed. It looked like an old, torn piece of paper, but I couldn't be sure. Curiosity bounced through me like a bunny as I walked over to my bed. It was definitely paper. I transferred the tattered material into my hand and began to unfold it. As I did so, I noticed a neat trail of calligraphy had taken up most of the space on the paper. Familiar handwriting; I had definitely seen it before.

My hands began to shake as the owner's name came flooding back to me. Instantly, I knew I didn't want to read the letter, for then I would learn why she did it. I didn't want to know though; it was_ her_ reason, _her_ secret. It should be buried with her, not written on this sheet of paper that had obviously been read by many others before me. Others who now knew the reason why as well. It was my turn to learn the secret too.

I sat down on the bed, the springs bouncing a little as I settled into it, and smoothed it out carefully. I took a deep breath, and began to read.

_By the time you all read this, I'll probably already be gone. Perhaps you haven't noticed; I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't. That was sarcasm, you all know what I've done. But none of you know the whole story. _

_No one really knows how deeply their actions can affect someone. How one broken promise can lead to a broken heart, how a simple eye roll or snicker can cause someone to lose their confidence. Or, how one day you come back to find that everyone's better off without you in their lives and suddenly you start to believe that your life is pointless. _

_Does that sound familiar? Probably not. Because that's how I felt, and last time I checked, no one seemed to care about my feelings. _

_Now, I'm not just going to sit here and assign blame to everyone; I'm not like that. But I will tell you that all of you had a part in my incident, why I decided to... you know, do what I did. Or what I'm about to do. _

_You all abandoned me. Some more significant than others, but you all did. Friends I thought I would have forever were suddenly cold strangers, and there was no one I could truly trust. I tried to make things better, I really tried to turn things around, to try and reconnect with everyone, but I could never get it right. Instead I got it all wrong. _

_No one stood by me after I wrote that article. You all stood by Nina. I think that was when I realized that I was truly unwanted. Alone. Worthless, useless. I get it, the article was mean and wrong. But it was the truth, and like I said: it's not my fault if the truth hurts. And this, right here, is the cold, hard truth. Does it hurt you as much as it hurts me? _

_Do any of you know how bad it hurts to know that you have no one? No one who genuinely cares for you, no one who will stand by you no matter what the situation or outcome is? No one you can open up to, no one who will listen when you have something to say? I'll tell you what it feels like: lifeless. I felt dead while I was still breathing. _

_I had so much I wanted to say to all of you, so many unanswered questions. So many unspoken thoughts that I never had the chance or courage to say. But you all spoke loud and clear to me through your actions. And sometimes actions speak louder than words. _

_I know you didn't mean for this to happen. Or maybe you did? If the result of your actions was intentional; congratulations. You got want you wanted. But, ask yourself: does it feel as good as you thought. Do you feel powerful, more better about yourself? Think long and hard... that's what I thought... _

_Hopefully heaven's a more happier home than this place. Or hell, wherever I end up. Which quite honestly sounds a lot better than here. Maybe I'll see you there, depending on your religion. And maybe by then you'll understand why sometimes people just don't want to live anymore, how treating people with kindness really does make a difference. How treating someone terribly only tears them apart, until there's nothing left. There's nothing left of who I used to be... only the depressed, reserved person I had unwillingly become. All because of how I was treated. _

_Pass this note to everyone in the house, aside from Trudy and Victor, of course. They don't need to see this, they had nothing to do with this. And if you don't pass the note on, well, lets just say that I have backup. Backup that you don't want to be released. And whoever finds me, know that I wish you didn't have to see me like this. I wish I could've been stronger. But the wound was too deep to heal properly, too deep to function with. Every time a possibility, a chance of potential brightness in my usual dark, dreary world seemed to form, my hopes and wishes were just tossed out without second thought. I don't want to live in the darkness forever. I'm tired of trying to live like I have a happy, normal life when all I want to do is crawl into a hole and cry for all eternity. So I'm giving up, I don't know what else to do. I have no one. _

_The last person who reads this can either keep it, or burn it. If you burn it, then all the evidence is gone. No one will ever know how much pain you caused someone. The truth will forever remain a mystery. You can move on and live your life like I never could, like you've never been hurt before. _

_And if you don't burn it... well, then that just shows that maybe you do care. Maybe you do want something left of me, maybe you didn't want me to die. _

_But it's too late. The damage has already been done. The past cannot be changed nor repeated. Your actions got the best of me, and ripped it to pieces. I am nothing now. _

_-Joy_

My hands were shaking uncontrollably as my chin quivered. I felt like a thousand knifes were stabbing me inside. The paper had absorbed wet splotches. I reached up to run my wobbling fingers through my hair when I realized my face was wet with moisture. The drops on the paper were my tears, drying along with many other dried tears. Probably my classmates, my friends. The ones who had just as much guilt as I did.

I placed the paper on the comforter beside me and hung my head into my hands in shame, trying to ease the pain, shaking my head as the tears rolled down my cheeks. That letter was the most deepest, darkest thing I had ever read. It held so much pain, so much sorrow, yet the truth. It was undeniably the truth. And she was absolutely right; the truth_ does_ hurt. I couldn't believe it, though; I refused to believe it. How could I-we-have been so horrible to her? No one should ever experience the pain Joy endured. The pain that was all my fault. I don't care about the fact that she blamed all of us; I knew I held the most responsiblity for her death._ I_ was the reason she comitted suicide.

* * *

Mr. Sweet's eyes scanned through the letter quickly, and by the time he had finished, I swore I saw tears glistening in his eyes.

"Very well," he spoke quietly, as he removed his glasses from around his face. "This," he gestured towards the letter that now sat on his desk, "has answered my question. You are all dismissed." Everyone nodded, except me, and turned around to leave. The door clicked shut, but I was still in the room. My eyes were set steadily on Mr. Sweet.

"Can I have that back now?"

Mr. Sweet just looked at me for a while, his stare indescribable. But it scared me, because he knew now. He knew the secret too. And he also believed that I was the main cause of the incident.

Without saying a word, he handed me back my letter. And without looking back, I took it from him and left, silently.

Once I entered the hallway, I walked a few steps before leaning against a row of blue lockers. That's when I could feel it; the burning of coming tears. This time I didn't try to force them back down. I slide down the lockers until I hit the ground, and finally let the tears escape. I cried so hard I could barely breathe, barely think straight. I could only think about Joy, the letter, and the fact that she was dead.

There were so many things I could have done, so many things I should have done. I should have pulled her closer instead of pushing her away. I should have lent her my shoulder to cry on, instead of just sitting there while she fell apart. I should have let her open up to me, instead of causing her to keep it all inside until she burst.

I should have been the friend I used to be, not the stranger I am now.

But it's too late. I realized too late.


	2. Chapter 2

I got an idea for a second chapter; I just had to write it. If you haven't read the first chapter yet, I suggest you do or you probably won't completely understand what this is about. Enjoy!

***Edited June 8th, 2012.**

* * *

**Fabian's POV**

The mid-autumn evening air was as crisp as a fresh apple, the sky a spectrum of stunning colors as the sun slowly dipped lower and lower beneath the horizon in the distance. Pale azure, light magenta, and a deep, vibrant orange coated the sky, causing a golden tint to cast over everything underneath it.

I sat in the middle of the graveyard, knees pulled up to my chest, and watched the sun, now nothing but a watery smudge right on the line of the horizon, disappear completely. The sound of the chirping cicadas drifted through my area with the warm night breeze, making it pleasurable. But I shouldn't be feeling like that. I didn't deserve to feel like that.

I shifted my position and looked over my shoulder at the road, where the zooming sound of passing cars, honking horns, and slowing brakes was coming from. The noises broke the calmness I was feeling and reminded me that this was the real world, where anything can change just like _that_. Nothing stayed the same forever and good things always came to an end. I would know; my life had changed drastically in the past couple of months—every single change was for the worse. I could never bring a genuine smile to my face. My relationship with my housemates would never be the same. And worst of all, I lost my best friend to suicide; one of the most tragic ways to leave this world.

It had been two and a half painful months since Joy took her own life. Two months since the night Joy swallowed a handful of pills and died on the bathroom floor to have Patricia find her the next morning. Two months since I lost that sparkle of joy in my life—the sparkle only she could create. I never knew how much of an impact she had made on my life, until she was taken from it. I never knew how badly I had been treating her—until it was too late. I still felt completely lost, like aliens had abducted me and I was suddenly in a place where I knew no one, and had no one to trust. I still felt utterly miserable, guilty, distraught—every word that was similar to depressed. Nothing in my life was happy anymore.

Turning back to her grave, I scanned my eyes over the gravestones besides Joy. On her right was her grandmothers, on her left was where her older sister was buried. I grazed my fingertips against her smooth gravestone. Engraved in the stone was: _Joy Katharine Mercer, 1995-2012_. And below that, was a tiny quote that read: _Without any light, there will never be joy_. A quote that suited this situation so well. Now that she was gone, there was no more light. No more joy.

A beeping sound started to buzz in my coat pocket, vibrating against my body and startling me. I stood up and reached into my coat pocket and pulled out my ringing cell phone, where a picture of a smiling Nina was covering the bright screen. _Incoming call, _it flashed. I sighed, and flipped it open. Pressing the talk button, I brought the phone up to my ear.

"Hello?" I answered in monotone.

"Oh, thank God! Fabian, where in the world are you?" Nina cried frantically. "Trudy's about to have a heart attack!"

The night air started to become colder, mixed with a smell of gas, freshly mowed grass, pine, and barbecue. I sighed and ran my fingers through my tangled hair, shivering as a powerful breeze pummeled against my body. I didn't know how to answer her question, because no one knew that I came her every day after school to talk to Joy. How I told her about what was going on, and how I truly felt about her. Everything I should've said before she died. No one knew how much I missed her, how much I cared for her. Not even Joy, and that's what bothered me the most.

I couldn't lie to Nina. I was a _horrible_ liar—my voice wavered, and my words come out rushed and stuttered. She'd see right through it; she knows me too well. But I didn't want to tell her the truth, either. She doesn't like to talk about what happened to Joy; especially because she knew she was a main reason, just like I was.

"Fabian, are you there?"

Her aggravated voice echoed through my phone's speakers and snapped me out of my reverie. "Uh, yeah, sorry," I apologized quickly.

"Where are you?" She practically shouted, her voice thick with edge and rage.

The wind was now sharp and extremely chilling, and I began to walk down by the sidewalk to keep warm. "Calm down, I-I just went for a w-walk." The lie didn't slide as smoothly as I had hoped off of my tongue, but it still sounded believable.

"For nearly a hour?" Nina said dryly, and I could practically picture her expression: eyebrows raised, eyes filled with uncertainty and her lips molded into a dubious frown.

"Y-yes, I-I just n-needed to-to get some... fresh air." I wanted more than anything to just hang up on her, but I couldn't do that. She would never leave me alone if I did.

"Yeah, sure." She huffed, which told me she was far beyond annoyed. "Well, when you want to tell me the truth, don't bother calling. I'm not stupid, you know. I know you're lying! Why can't you just tell me where you're at?"

"No, Nina, I-I—"

"Forget it." Nina cut me off curtly, and before I could say or do anything, the line went dead. She hung up on me.

I sighed deeply with annoyance and snapped my phone shut. "Crap," I muttered. I screwed up completely. Just like I did with Joy.

I decided to continue to stroll next to the sidewalk, cars passing by me in the speed of light. Everything, no matter what, reminded me of Joy. Somethings made me think of her personality, like the sparkling sun on a cloudless day. Somethings made me think of the memories, like the sound of a child's musical, infectious laughter. Some things made me think of her beautiful eyes, like warm gooey chocolate. And something made me think of her smile, like the way a light bulb brightened up a dim room. Everywhere I went, she went with me. But I couldn't see her. I would do anything to be able to, but nothing could ever bring her back. Only the cherished memories would stay alive forever.

But I needed _more_ than that. I wanted to be with her; I _needed_ to be with her. No one understood me like she used to, no one could make me laugh like her, or smile. No one could ever listen like her, no one could ever care like her. No one could ever _be_ like her, not even Nina. _Especially_ Nina.

Everything had become much darker in the fifteen minutes that had gone by. The sky was turning into a midnight-blue shade, and the lampposts were lit, creating a path of light for anyone who happened to be traveling by. A crescent moon was beginning to form, taking its turn as the source of light. Cars were still passing by quickly, their lights practically blinding me.

That was when an idea formed in my mind. My life had lost its happiness; when Joy died, it was like a part of myself was buried with her. And I realized; I _wanted_ to die. I couldn't live right without her in my life. I didn't know until now how happy she made my life. Nothing was normal between my housemates and I. Sure, Nina and I were alright, but when we were all together it was still awkward and forced. And I didn't like that. I liked how easy things were with Joy; how she could make me feel so carefree and comfortable to just be my self. I needed to feel like that again. No one else could make me feel like that.

A pair of headlights formed in the distance, growing brighter and stronger as they grew closer.

_Twenty, nineteen, eighteen. _

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I repeatedly asked myself if I was truly willing to do this.

I was.

_Seventeen, sixteen, fifteen. _

I thought about my parents, how much I loved my mom for all of her support, how much I loved my dad for helping me grow into the man I was destined to me. I thought about my little sister, how much of an amazing young lady she was going to become.***** _I love you._

_Fourteen, thirteen, twelve. _

I thought about my housemates; my best friends. My second family. I thought about all of the jokes and laughs we shared; all of the unforgettable memories. _I love you guys. _

_Eleven, ten, nine._

In ten seconds, the car would be a mere fifteen feet in front of me. In ten seconds... I was going to jump.

_Eight. Seven. Six._

I thought about the solar system, my most favorite thing in the world. I wondered if you'd be able to see the planets in heaven.

_Five. Four. Three._

I thought about Nina. Her beautiful smile, her sparkling hazel eyes, the amount of love I had for her. But it was nothing compared to what I felt towards Joy. _I love you, Nina. _

_Two._

I thought about Sibuna and all of the mysteries we solved. Together, which brought us closer. I thought about Amber's blonde moments, Alfie's goofiness. Patricia's determination and Nina's courage. I realized how much I was going to miss that. But even if I tried, it would never be the same between us. I raised my right hand up to my face and covered my right eye with it. _"Sibuna," _I whispered. For the very last time.

_One._

I took a deep breath. Everything seemed to slow down: my heartbeat, the car. Time. And then everything sped up as I hurtled my body out into the road. There was a furious high whine and a sensation of heat swelled through my body as I slammed hard into something just as hard, if not harder. It felt as though I was being thrown around by a giant hand as the earth revolved, turned upside-down and sideways. And all of the sudden I came flooding down and crashed forcefully onto ground. Everything became completely still, floating imagines flashing through my mind in-and-out like a dream. Bright colors, glowing lights, a tingle of warmness. Something warm—possibly a hand, more gentle than before—pressed against my back. I could barely make out a face above my own, whispering my name over and over. _Fabian, Fabian, Fabian. _The face became clearer, something so bright and white and shining glowing around its head I swore it was a halo.

And then, my vision went black.

* * *

My eyelids fluttered a few times, before opening completely.

I was in the air, rising. Surrounded by a glowing light, growing stronger and bigger as I got closer. The light was radiating a massive amount of warmth that made me feel safe. I was safe. As my vision became more clear, I realized there were stars floating around me. Twinkling and sparkling like they always did on a cloudless night. I had a sudden desire to get closer to the light, which was now the size of the sun. Before I knew it, the light was overpowering and I had no choice but to snap my eyes shut as I entered the light, swirling around as I drowned in a pool of warmth. I had a good feeling about it—like I was meant to be swimming in the warmth. Like it was my new home.

After what seemed like an eternity, I felt the need to re-open my eyes. And the sight I saw was breathtaking: hills covered in soft patches of emerald grass, a massive amount of oak and pine trees, the enchanting sound of chirping birds and a beautiful, crystal-clear pond. It was like paradise.

I stood up, my mouth agape as I slowly walked around, my feet sinking in the lush grass. I had no idea where I was at. I didn't know if it was heaven—it had to be. There was no way hell was anything like this. Unless if I was somewhere in-between heaven and hell, a place where the dead explored and possibly tried to understand why they had died before they had to choice where to go or where to stay. It all reminded me of a book I had read, which made me want to know the answers to my questions even more.

"You're here."

I whipped around. A teenage girl was standing a few feet away from me, long brown hair flowing down her back in ringlets, a silky white dress loosely covering her petite figure. I didn't recognize her—my mind was utterly blank—but something about her was definitely familiar.

As she stepped closer to me, I became more aware of her eyes: Large and full, and a beautiful brown shade that reminded me of chocolate. Suddenly, was like a light bulb had gone off inside of me. It was _Joy_. She was standing in front of me, more beautiful than ever. Like an angel.

"Joy," my voice cracked as the words came out hushed in disbelief. I never imagined I would see her again.

She was so close to me now. I could smell her scent: sweet peppermint mixed with something else so good-smelling that I had never been able to identify. Her scent that I knew all-too well sent chills down my spine. I felt the sudden urge to wrap my arms around her as tightly as I could and never let go. We were finally together again; like it always should've been.

"I knew you cared," she whispered, the corners of her lips upturned into a beautiful smile. A single tear rolled down her cheek as her chocolate eyes bored into mine. The way she looked at me made me love her even more, and for the first time in a long while: I smiled. A real, genuine smile.

Maybe it wasn't too late after all.


End file.
